


Ghostfire

by Lesa



Series: Oaths and Bonds [1]
Category: Sailor Moon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Shitennou Forums Ficathon, Time Skips, Underage Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesa/pseuds/Lesa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Once again Drusilla Alagonson was only a foster child in a foster home, just a number on a piece of paper. "Another mouth to feed but money in my pocket," she'd heard her new foster mother say about her when she walked in the door, dragging her bag of clothes and clutching Spike the squirrel to her chest.  Most of the other kids had just looked at her and then looked away, going back to what they were doing.  She wasn't anything special in their minds, or at least, she had told herself then, not yet."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghostfire

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by a Sailor Moon roleplay I take part in, where I play Dru, our Sailor Jupiter. I hope you enjoy, or well, as well as you can. Other fics in the Oathverse will be happier.

_New Haven, CT  
2008_

Already she'd broken her promise, the fourteen year old scolded herself.  She'd promised Trent she wouldn't cry.  She'd still see him and Daisy at school.  It didn't matter that they'd almost adopted her.  It didn't matter that she'd almost become Trent and Daisy's sister, that she'd almost become an Arawn.  No, that didn't matter in the slightest.  Couldn't now, since she wasn't in her room at their house anymore, surrounded by the furniture Papa Josiah and Mama Irene had let her pick out, all her clothes put away neatly in the closet and drawers.  All her clothing was in a big trash bag next to the sagging mattress she was now to call her home.  Once again Drusilla Alagonson was only a foster child in a foster home, just a number on a piece of paper.  "Another mouth to feed but money in my pocket," she'd heard her new foster mother say about her when she walked in the door, dragging her bag of clothes and clutching Spike the squirrel to her chest.  Most of the other kids had just looked at her and then looked away, going back to what they were doing.  She wasn't anything special in their minds, or at least, she had told herself then, not yet.  Not when her social worker was still hovering in the doorway.

When he left, they descended like she thought they might, the older girls rifling through her clothes and taking the pieces they wanted.  She didn't bother to fight them, she didn't want to hurt them.  None of them knew she was a blue belt already, and she didn't want to get in trouble her first night by beating them up.  It was just clothes, even if that blonde was too big on top for what had been Dru's favorite t-shirt and she was down to the pair of jeans she was wearing, rather than the five other pairs she had packed.  The girl began putting her remaining clothes into the bag, keeping Spike clamped to her side for fear one of the little ones would take him.  A bit awkward to pack with one hand but better one hand and keep her birthday present from Daisy, rather than lose him.

"Hey," the word was loud in the quiet hallway, making her jump and drop Spike.  She scrambled to pick him back up, looking at the boy who spoke.  A couple years older than her, she figured, Trent's age.  Tall, but so was she, so that wasn't really what scared her.  The fact that he was an older boy, that did.  She'd seen the looks the older ones were giving her when the girls went through her clothes.  Like she was fresh meat.  Dru didn't want to have to do anything, she'd fight them off if they tried anything, she knew she could, thanks to _sensei._

"Easy," he said, "jus' wanted to know if you wanted any help.   M'Nash."

"Uh," she faltered as he bent down to pick up her considerably lightened bag of clothing.  "Dru.  I'm Dru."  Nash grinned at her and she couldn't help tentatively returning it with a smile, chin buried in Spike's bushy tail.

"Well, c'mon, Dru, let me help you to your room."  He lifted her bag and she followed him up the carpeted stairs, blowing her bangs out of her face with a sigh.  She wanted to go home to the Arawns.  With the Arawns wasn't home-home, but there was no home-home anymore, since Mama and Papa were in heaven.  All she'd wanted was a little brother, Mama and Papa had wanted him too, but the bus - she sniffled.

Nash turned around at the sound, and she flinched, only to see the grin he had given her still on his face.

"It's alright, jus' a little further."  He opened the door to the next room on the hallway.  Dru didn't even have to see his face to know he was frowning.  It was a small room with a clearly taken bunk bed shoved up against the far wall and the slimmest of spaces left for a mattress tossed on the floor.

"I'm sure they'll get you a proper bed soon," the taller boy told her, setting her clothing (she'd later discover it was only two t-shirts, one dress, three pairs of underwear and her accidentally-packed size-too-small bra) down on the mattress.

"I'm two doors down on the left, uh, they gave me a room to myself."  The words _for now_ hung in the air as good as if he'd said them and she nodded.

"So, uh, where do you go to school?"  He pondered her question for a minute and she knew he was doing as she had needed to before she was with the Arawns: remember just what the name of the school he was going to _now_ was called, not the school he'd been in at his old home.

"Hillhouse."  She gave the smallest smile at his word.   He was at the Hellhouse with her, cool, she'd surprise him tomorrow in the hallways or something, he probably didn't know she went there.  Not that she would've been going there for long, Papa Josiah had already planned on transferring the three of them to another school.  Now he couldn't, not for her.

"I'm gonna go, I got homework, but, uh, if you need me…" Nash trailed off as he left the room, unable and unwilling, in his teenager state, to give the now sniffling Dru the one thing she wanted, a hug.

\--

She'd had an uneasy night on the lumpy mattress, but was comforted by the thought of seeing Daisy and Trent again.  Nash looked at her out of a blackened eye when she went to grab the box of cereal from the counter.  It was nothing like the pancakes and eggs or even just toast with jam back at the Arawns.

"What happened?" Dru asked him as she looked around for something to pour the stale cereal in.

"Tripped," he merely said and she left it at that, knowing what 'tripped' meant and dreading what that could mean for her.  In the end she ended up having to try to eat out of the box, there weren't enough bowls or cups for her to pour any cereal into.  Even then she didn't get breakfast, that first handful slipped between her fingers as she was shoved hard from behind, smacking against the table.

"No eating out of the box, it's rude."  Her new foster mother snarled.  "You've got to learn some manners." Dru ducked the incoming slap and ran for the door, grabbing her book bag from where she had dropped it.  Her shaking didn't stop until she reached the bus stop.  It was the first time she'd been hit in a year.

Nash jogged to a halt beside her.

"Sorry," he said abruptly, pointing to his eye. "They do that, but it's all they do."  She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself.  It was cool this late into September, and she no longer had a coat.  It could be worse, he was saying, and that was right, it could be worse.  She'd been in worse, when her foster father had - but that couldn't happen here.   Dru could protect herself now, Papa Josiah had made sure she knew how to fight, to defend herself, with her karate lessons.

"Uh," the girl said for lack of anything else to say, and unwillingness to just stand there silent.  "What classes you in?"

"Some math, history, English, maybe chemistry?" He questioned himself.  Not that good a sign for his grades, she thought with despondence.  In the last year she'd become a good student, with Mama Irene helping her with the tough stuff.

"Gotcha," was all she murmured as she watched the leaves scuttle down the street.  At least once she got to school she'd have Daisy.   Just having Nash there waiting with her did somehow make it better, the other boys stopped staring at her in her t-shirt and jeans, sneakers on sock-less feet.

"So, what about you?" Dru turned to look at Nash, surprised at the question.  "What classes do you have?"

"Algebra, American History, English, Biology, Spanish."

"Oh, huh, maybe I have Spanish too, I dunno."

"How don't you know?"

"I jus', I jus' don't go, a lot."

She started.  "But why?"

"Dunno, bored, I guess," he said as the bus pulled up.

"Just go, you'll like it, and even if you don't, it's good to go.  At least graduate." The pair let all the others get on before them.

"But why?"

Dru looked up at him, green eyes snapping, "Cause gettin' an education and gettin' out is what we gotta do to make ourselves better.  I wanna get better.  Do you?"

Nash said nothing the entire ride, but seemed thoughtful, staring out the window.

\--

Because of how classes went she didn't see Daisy until lunch, but happily slid down beside her almost-sister, eyes eating up everything in front of the blonde.  Her stomach was roaring out approval at the sight of food, hungrier than ever after the first missed breakfast in a long time.

"Can I -?" She started to ask, only to be cut off as the other girl snorted and laughed, shaking her head.

"Why are you even asking, of course you can have some.   Mama had me take extra, Nutty, on purpose.  It's your favorite chicken salad and I think I saw her sneak some of your cookies in my bag."  

Dru grinned, mouth already full of chicken salad.  She waved at Trent as he sat down across the table, still chewing.

He was so adorable and amazing and one of these days she was going to – oh, there was Nash!  Dru thought nothing of popping out of her seat and running over to him.   He probably couldn’t see them what with everyone, and he’d been heading for the courtyard, would never have found her. 

“Nash, c’mon, we’re over here!”  The girl tugged on his arm, leading him over to her almost-siblings.

“Uh, we?”

“Yeah, me and Daisy and Trent Arawn.  They were my last home, they’re really cool.” Dru settled him next to Trent without as much as a buy-your-leave, then scooted back to her seat across the table, digging into her food.

“I dunno, I –“

“Hi, I’m Daisy, this is Trent, and I know you already met Nutty,” Daisy chirruped happily.  Nash looked at the three, bewildered as Dru tried to make herself one with the table.

“Nutty?” He finally asked, clearly not processing.

“My sister calls Dru “Nutty” because she likes squirrels and her name means “strong like an oak” according to some baby name book she found in the library.” Trent answered with a sympathetic look, used to his sisters.

“And she’s like Drusilla the vampire, so she’s nutty!” Daisy cut in, either oblivious or ignoring Trent’s groan.

“Vampire?”

“You’ve never heard of –“ Dru clapped a hand over Daisy’s mouth.

“Less talking, more eating,” the younger of the girls suggested, trying to get the topic off something that left her in a continual blush.

“Nash, do you want some?  There’s more than enough to share.”  Dru shoved half her sandwich and an apple over towards the older boy before he could even say a word.  She knew he didn’t have a lunch: if they’d had reason to hit him they wouldn’t consider him worthy of food, that was normally how it went.

He picked up the sandwich half, knowing as well as she did that it wasn’t enough and they might not be seeing dinner so they had to eat something.

“Thank you for helping Dru,” Trent said abruptly, causing two pairs of green eyes to cut to him.   “She hasn’t said anything about it yet, but if she thought to invite you over, you did something to help her, so thank you.”  Nash merely nodded, mouth full of the sandwich.  The three ignored Daisy as she began chattering on about _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , while Dru loved the show, she wasn’t in the mood to fight romantic-pairing theories with her sister.

“Knock it off, Flower,” Trent finally said when he’d had enough and they’d lapsed into awkward silence but for Daisy’s monologue.

“But –“

“Hush up.”

“But –“

“No.”

“Power!” Daisy turned and beseeched Dru, who shook her head.

“No, Flower, not today – oh okay, fine, fine, just stop looking at me like that.”

Trent rolled his eyes and changed how he was sitting until he was looking just as Nash, ignoring the conversation across the table.  “Sorry about FlowerPower, they do that.”

“FlowerPower?” Nash echoed, eyeing his classmate strangely.

“Yeah, Flower cause Daisy, and Power because Dru’s scary when she’s mad,” Trent said, then continued on without pause.  “So, do you play any instruments?”

“No.”

“Do you want to learn?”

Nash looked at Trent, who clarified, “Like I said before, thanks for helping Dru, and since I know she, Daisy and Mom will be on your case to get your grades up, the least I can do is help you with something fun.  You ever wanted to learn how to play the guitar, I can teach you, at least the basics.  I think you’ll like it.”  Nash hesitantly agreed, bemusedly finding himself now with an arranged after school meeting at the Arawns’ house.  At least he had something to look forward to now.

\--

They settled into a routine, or a form of a routine.  Get up early so they don’t get hit for sleeping late, get ready for school without getting hit, try to get breakfast without getting hit, go wait for the bus and nurse whatever new bruise there might be, quiz each other (or more Dru quizzing Nash, even if she was the grade below him) on whatever there was a test or quiz in, go to class, eat lunch with Trent and Daisy and their friends, go to more classes, ride the bus back to the Arawns’ house, stay there for dinner and work on homework and actual fun things, making sure to get back before curfew.  The foster parents didn’t care unless someone was out beyond curfew, or was noticeably causing trouble (or what they perceived as trouble) in the morning.

Trent was a patient teacher for Nash on the guitar, smartly withholding sheet music until his fellow sophomore did his homework, helping him to study.  Dru wasn’t entirely aware of it, Trent purposefully keeping it a secret.  It was good to have some secrets from your siblings, and helping a guy that had become a friend, that was a good secret.  Daisy had seen how the wind blew and alerted her already-aware brother of the fact that their “sister” had a crush on him.  That was partly why Trent kept it all a secret from Dru.  He was, he would admit, a bit of a romantic, and liked the thought of Dru and Nash together.  They were good for each other.  Still he knew it would hurt when he finally turned her down, and planned for the problem.

“Trent?” Dru’s use of his name in a particular tone that afternoon affirmed it for him, today was the day.  “I, uh, I, uh, have something, I, uh.”

“S’okay, Dru, just spit it out.”  He swung his _gi_ bag idly from his free hand, content despite this ripple with the fact that he was up for his brown-belt test over the weekend, and his little Dru was going to be trying for her fifth stripe on her blue.  She’d come so far so fast, she’d probably beat him to full black at this rate.  
“I like you, I like you a lot.”

“Oh,” he said with measured tones, “I like you too, Power, I just – you’re my sister, Dru.  You’ve always been a sister, and you’ll always be a sister.  I like you as my sister, I love you as my sister.  I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”

“Um,” she hiccuped and he dropped his bag, doing as all good brothers would at seeing their sister in pain, wrapping her in a hug.  He let her cry it out, though there were few tears.  She’d had such a life that he was surprised there were any tears left for her to give about this.   A minute passed, maybe two before he straightened, meeting her eyes easily, she was as tall as he was now.

“So,” he grabbed her _gi_ bag with his own, linking their free hands together and swinging them, “I think Mom was planning on a beef roast for dinner, but she was hoping you’d work your magic on the sweet potatoes.  How about we surprise her and turn the sweet potatoes into a sweet potato pie?  Unless that was what she already wanted you do to with them since the roast has regular spuds and carrots and everything.”  He turned her attention to more inane things, wincing inside for the heartbreak he knew he had caused.  That was why he made sure to begin teaching Nash a certain song that night, while the girls were busy studying. 

Neither teenager had noticed someone watching them from inside the convenience store across the street, drink can crumpling under his fist.

\--

Dru lay back on her lumpy mattress, listening to her roommates’ snores.  Bianca and Sarah weren’t bad, really.  Neither of them had taken any of her clothes, and they had made sure Meghan from down the hall didn’t try to take Spike.  Her belly was still full from the sweet potato pie, and she knew she would be okay for the quiz in bio tomorrow.  Still she just couldn’t sleep.  There were just noises going on, noises that were odd even for the house.  Huh.

She got up, leaving Spike on her mattress.  Maybe it was all in her head and she’d be able to sleep if she got a glass of water.  Have to be really quiet doing it, but she’d learned the skill of that through the months.  The fourteen-year old stopped in front of Nash’s closed door.  He never closed his door at night, they weren’t allowed to.  She’d planned on asking him if he wanted a glass of water, but now?  Now she was worried.  Slowly she rested her head on his door, ear pressed to the wood.  There were noises.  Noises not like she’d been worried to hear – though she’d heard _those_ noises before, been subject to _those_ noises before, she could still feel the hands and the – she cut off the thought, more concerned about the noises she was hearing.  They weren’t _those_ noises, weren’t sex noises.  Dru knew something was wrong behind the closed door when she heard a sound she recognized, a groan.  It was Nash’s “I forgot about the math quiz” groan, but worse. 

Quietly she eased open the door and flew into a rage.  Nash was lying bruised and broken on the floor of his bedroom.  There was a pool, she noticed through the angry haze, not just drops, but a pool of blood around him.  The fourteen year old blocked their foster father’s next kick at Nash by sweeping out his supporting leg.

“Stop it!”  It was useless, she knew it was useless to say it; he wouldn’t listen to her even if she could beat him up, because even though she was tall and strong, he was taller and stronger.  “This is wrong, stop it!”

“Eh,” she stepped back as her foster father (she didn’t even know his name, just called him ‘sir’ the few times she saw him), staggered to his feet.  The alcohol fumes on his breath overcame her even with a yard separating them now.  “Non’ya business, girlie.  Go back t’bed.”

“No.” Dru shifted her feet into the ready stance of her first _kata_ , waiting.  “I won’t leave, stop hurting him.”  
“He needs to be hurt!” The man bellowed, uncaring of waking anyone else.

“Why?” She was confused as to his reasons, but maybe she could appeal to something in him, make him realize what he was doing was wrong.

“Didn’t protect you.” He turned, lurching towards her.  _What?_   “Didn’t protect you from that otha boy.  You _my_ girl.  Not that otha boy’s girl. My girl.   Mine.”  

 _What?  What did that mean?_   Dru tensed when she realized her back was against the wall of the tiny bedroom, she had nowhere to move.  He had blindsided her with his words, caged her in.  “What other boy?”

“Dat blond boy, he hugged you.  He should no hug you, you mine!”  The girl flinched from the fury in his voice, teeth breaking through the skin of her cheek at his slap.

“Alla you my girls.  No one else’s girls, you my girls.  I been good, so good to you, an’this, this is how you repay me, by hurtin’ me?  I only try’n t’remindhim to make sure you protected.”  He reached out a hand and grabbed at her, squeezing her breast.  Dru slammed back against the wall, reaching for his wrist and twisting it.  She couldn’t brace herself properly so she had no leverage, couldn’t do anything.

“You gotta learn,” her foster father said drunkenly, grabbing at her shoulder through her pajama top and throwing her towards Nash’s mattress.  “You gotta learn t’be good to me like I been good to you.”

 _No._   Drusilla knew what was coming, she knew it and fought it, trying to stand but even in his drunkenness, when he pulled her down and crawled on top of her she couldn’t do anything.  She couldn’t do anything but stare at Nash, his eyes burning hot, she thought muzzily as she tried to go to the place she had left behind, the place where nothing and no one could touch her, his eyes burning like green ectoplasm.  Ghostly rage.

He would stand, if he could, stand and fight their foster father off her.  Stand and fight him off like she should be, like she had told herself she would if he tried anything.  She twisted her hips, bucking upward, trying to roll him off, but he had her trapped, her pants at her knees, top at her shoulders, his zipper burning and pinching as he moved.  Her arms were in one sweaty hand, the other – the other didn’t bear thinking of.

It was over quickly, or maybe it wasn’t, she couldn’t tell.  All she knew was blood and rage and ghost-green eyes as blood trickled down the back of her throat from her cheek and Nash’s eyes burning into her own.  At the end, when her foster father had grunted and stood, “Good girl,” she hadn’t moved.  She hadn’t moved until he left the room, drunkenly swaying, uncaring of the blood on his form, pants unzipped.  When he was well and truly gone, door closed behind him, then she moved.  Drusilla crawled over to where Nash lay crumpled, tugging her shirt down and pulling her pants up with hands that shook. 

“I’m okay,” she told him, though both knew it was a lie.  “I’m okay, let’s get you to your bed, see how bad you are.”  They moved slow, stiff with pain.  Waves of agony made both stop, five, six, ten times on the three foot journey between where Nash lay and his mattress.  Finally he was there, and Dru started to rise to her knees, ignoring the tearing ache in her midsection to look him over.  He reached for her hand and shook his head.  His lips mouthed words she couldn’t understand, but she could make out the soft pressure he put on her shoulder.  Down.  Lie down.   The teenager did, hesitantly, cautiously.  Not afraid that he would hurt her, he couldn’t hurt her, not in his state, and not more than she already had been that night, but afraid she would hurt him, since she didn’t know how badly wounded he had been.   There was so much blood.

The feeling was wrong, the pair huddled together, broken and damaged on a lumpy mattress, bleeding.  Sharing in each other’s warmth as tears were shed that neither would ever speak of, her head pressed into his chest.  They slept just as the sun slid over the horizon. 

\--

They both missed the next day of school, their foster mother coming across the two of them and sighing before declaring they couldn’t go in looking like that, there would be too many questions.  At least she didn’t order Dru to go back to her room.  The pair stayed locked (as it turned out Nash’s door could be locked from the outside – it was only luck, or not, some would say, that it hadn’t been the night before) in Nash’s room all day.  Dru looked over his wounds as best she could, but it was hard to try to wrap his ribs all by herself when it hurt to move.  She could only guess, but she thought at least one rib was broken, if not more, and one of his shoulders was dislocated.  His back was a mess of welts and bruises, bloody and flayed.   She couldn’t do much with only his pair of sheets, but was able to pick out as many fibers of his shirt as she could and used his sheets – only the clean part – to cover them from the air. 

Trent and Daisy came by in the afternoon, but their foster mother said they were both sick with the flu.  Dru wanted to get up, to rattle the door and scream and say they weren’t, to say that she wanted to go home, she wanted them to get Papa Josiah and Mama Irene come and take her home and take Nash home too.  If they didn’t hear, and their foster mother heard, Dru knew she would just be in for a beating.  She already hurt, so she wouldn’t say anything.  She would go to school on Monday and say nothing, go to school and say that Nash was still sick, go to school and pretend it didn’t hurt to sit down, that she’d fallen down the stairs to explain the bruises.

\--

She knew they hadn’t believed her, not Daisy, not Trent, not Papa Josiah, not Mama Irene, not _sensei_.   None of them believed her, but since she didn’t say anything else, they couldn’t say she was lying.  Or they could, but they didn’t, since they didn’t have any proof.  The one good thing, Dru thought as she tumbled her sparring partner to the mat, was that her foster parents didn’t seem to think anything about she and Nash being in the same bed now.  Maybe they could protect each other.  Maybe they could – her feet went out from under her and she reacted, kicking up and shoving her partner over her head before he had time to make good on her fall.  No one was ever going to get the better of her again.  No one, not ever.

That Dru swore to herself every day as she rode the bus alone, Nash still too feverish and weak from his beating to get out of bed.  He would have to come to school tomorrow, or his social worker would be called, he’d missed all the days he could, even with a doctor’s note.  Get better and get out.  That was all she could do, get better and get out.  Both of them, get better and get out.  She still helped Nash with his homework, when he was sensible enough to do it, or made up things for his answers so that at least he wouldn’t fall behind according to the teacher.

 All they had to do was get better and get out, try to stay out of trouble and get out, get away, get free.  She wouldn’t, couldn’t, tell what had happened.  Just needed to get out and get free.  That was all.   She bowed to _sensei_ and received the next stripe on her belt.  Get better, get free.

\--

He came in while she was sleeping and alone.  Things had been going good; Nash had come back to school, passed his classes with Cs, decent considering how long he’d been out.  They’d surprised him with a birthday party of sorts, Dru and the Arawns.  Trent had given him his old guitar.   Dru had made him a bracelet and Daisy helped Dru make the birthday cake.  He’d been shocked, but they’d all been glad to see the smile on his face (though only Dru knew it was the first time he smiled since _that_ night).  The guitar was the only reason why Dru was alone.  She’d told Nash she would be fine in what was now their room.  Yes, it was late and past curfew, but he wanted to play a little, see if it would help him sleep.

Neither of them had been sleeping well.  It wasn’t just that they’d heard recognizable noises from other rooms lately, sounds that said they weren’t the only ones he was _visiting_.  It was that and the knowledge that their foster father was on vacation for a week.  The thought was terrifying.  At least their foster mother pretended to care, sometimes.  Their foster father never did, except when he was drunk, and then it was attention no one wanted.

Drusilla woke to a hand clamped down over her mouth, fingers where they shouldn’t be.  She fought, she scratched and bit and chopped and punched.  Her legs were trapped, twisted up in the sheets, making her kicks ineffectual and useless.  It was no use; he was too drunk to notice the bleeding from above his eye, the gouges in his wrists.  One hard punch against her head assured she couldn’t move.  Not again, no, not again.  It was going to happen again. It couldn’t happen again.  She refused for it to happen again.  No matter what she did, it was going to happen.

The rasp of his zipper going down was loud in the silence.  All she could think of was one thing, one person in the haze her mind had become.  Nash.  What would he do when he saw?  What would – she grunted at the entrance, unable to keep it in – what would her foster father do if Nash came in right now?  Would she just have to lie here, head ringing, while he was beaten half to death in front of her? 

A roar, the sound inhuman, cut through her thoughts.  The weight was gone and Dru could only watch, clothes torn, as Nash, gentle, sweet Nash, became a feral beast.  Fists rose and fell.  Blood poured.  Nash was going to kill him.

“No,” she choked out.   “No, Nash.”  He stopped, bloody fist raised, green eyes hard, bright with ghost fire.  “Nash, stop, please.”  She thought she heard a thump, but she couldn’t figure out what it had been.  She blinked and Nash was right in front of her.  She blinked again and suddenly they were outside, she was being held in his arms and it was so warm, so nice and warm.  She blinked again and thought she could hear Papa Josiah and Mama Irene, or maybe it was actually Papa and Mama, but how could they talk to her, they were dead?

Someone tried to pull her away from Nash and she screamed.  No, no, he was going to hurt her again, no, Nash, please, Nash, help me, Nash!  A snarl, and then she was warm again, safe with Nash.  Everything was so white when she opened her eyes that she had to close them.  White and clean, too clean.  She wasn’t clean, she couldn’t be in this clean place.  Was it heaven?  Was that why she thought she had heard Mama and Papa, she was in heaven with them?  But Nash couldn’t be here, Nash couldn’t die, not yet.  It wasn’t right that he was in heaven, even though if she was in heaven she wanted him there with her.  He was Nash, he would keep her safe. 

\--

When Drusilla finally woke up, it was to enter the whirlwind blur of police questioning, painful evidence gathering and the knowledge that there was going to be a court case when she left the hospital.  She was being reassigned to a different foster family, as was Nash.  All the kids in the house were.  They weren’t allowing her to live with the Arawns, or Nash to live with the Arawns, no matter how she begged and pleaded.  They were going elsewhere, being split up.

The Arawns were moving, she had no choice in the matter, they had no choice in the matter.  Josiah’s job demanded he move, and even though he had explained why he had to stay, they still were making him move.  All she had from them was an email address, Spike the squirrel, some clothes and the squirrel necklace Daisy had given her for Christmas.  The one thing she made sure to do was get a tragus piercing before they left.   All the family had them, and they were her family, so she was going to get one, no matter what anyone said about it.  Dru just didn’t care anymore.   Even that was more than she had of Nash.

She knew he had the bracelet she had made for him, and the guitar-pick necklace she’d given him for Christmas.  All she had from him was a Minnie Mouse necklace.   He’d worked so hard for the necklace, she’d found out, taking a job and doing work under the table for Papa Josiah when it seemed he wouldn’t have enough.  It was a little thing, purple with Swarovski crystals to make up the pokadots on her dress and the black of her eyes and her nose.  She’d never take it off, ever.  She just wished she had more, like the name of his next foster home, or an email address, so they could stick together.  They weren’t even going to the same school anymore, since his new home was across New Haven.

\--

  
  
_New Haven, CT  
_ _2012_

Oh, it had been awesome!  Dru beamed out at the hustle and bustle of her city at rush hour.  That movie.  Was awesome.  _Papa would've loved it,_ she thought to herself briefly, then shook her head.  Would have?  She thoroughly expected that wily man to have gotten it screened up in heaven or something like that.  He was her papa, he'd always been able to do everything from his chair, and now that he wasn't stuck in his chair because he was in heaven?  Yeah, the angels got to see _The Avengers_.  Natasha had been excellent, and even though it was kinda weird to see Robin as Maria Hill, it was also kinda cool.  Not to mention Iron Man, Thor, Cap, Bruce, and she added, yeah, Nick Fury and Hawkeye were awesome too.  They just weren't as much eye-candy to her.

Best present for graduation ever.  Okay, not the best, the best was getting the hell out of Hellhouse High.  It had been a terrible school.  Evie had already declared they were going out to lunch _and_ dinner after her graduation (she'd already been cowed into going _to_ her graduation, which she hadn't planned on).  Her roommate, Drusilla thought, had already done more than enough.  Not only had the college sophomore been willing to accept her having to move in during the middle of Evie's finals, as her eighteenth birthday hit and she was kicked out her foster home (good riddance), but Evie and Mama Liz ("No calling me Dr. Brannon or Dr. Liz or Mama Brannon, you're family, Dru!") had gotten her all the furniture she could need for her bedroom for her birthday.  She had her own furniture.  _Her own furniture!_   She hadn't even been able to call a mattress on the floor her own since the Arawns'. It was amazing.  Sure, nothing precisely matched since it was all from thrift store finds, but it was hers.  Hers and no one else's.  She was still agog that they'd gotten her a queen-sized bed, so that she'd have room for her feet without them hanging off the edge.  First time in years she wasn't hanging off the end of the bed with her feet.  It was hers to keep forever, even if she moved out.  She would pay them back somehow, the not-quite-graduated high-school senior assured herself.  Somehow, she would.

Drusilla turned and began the quarter-mile walk back towards the apartment with her waiting comfortable, big bed.  It was only five at night but that didn't mean she had to stay up if she wanted to sleep early, Mama Liz had actually taken time off to take Evie out for dinner - Dru had declined, having her personal movie night planned ever since she first heard the release date - which meant the apartment was empty.  She looked down at her bag, another birthday gift, though from _sensei_.  Maybe she could reheat her popcorn or something.  Gotten too into the movie, forgot to eat it.  Had gone cold but not stale, which was a help.

Wait, there was no reason she had to keep it.  Just because she'd spent money on it and didn't want to throw it away didn't mean _she_ had to keep it.   Be nice to help someone else when she was feeling so good herself.  Dru fished the popcorn bag out of her shoulder-bag and walked over to the homeless man sheltered in the window alcove.  He had a guitar case empty and open in front of him, guitar resting on his knees.

"I know it's not money, but, uh, here." She held out the barely-nibbled on bag of popcorn, wishing he would look up.  There was something about him.

The man looked up and her heart stopped.   _Nash._   She knew it was Nash, she knew those eyes.  Oh God, oh God, what was he doing here?  What was he doing here like this?   She hadn’t seen him in four years and oh God, his eyes, they were so hollow.  Almost more than they had been, when – oh God.

“Nash,” he seemed startled she knew his name.  “Nash,” she said again, fighting off the tears that threatened, sinking to her knees to look at him better.  “Nash, it’s, it’s Dru.”  He blinked at her, as if uncomprehending, then she found herself in his arms.  Only the faintest wisps of his familiar scent surrounded him, covered in the miasma of the street.

“Dru.” He said the name hoarsely, like he hadn’t talked once since they said goodbye, unwillingly separated when his new foster family took him away after the end of the trial.  She didn’t care what people thought, a well dressed young woman hugging a homeless man.  It was Nash.  He was alive.  That was all that mattered.  With some doing she got him standing, grinning goofily at the fact that he was still taller than her, for all she was six feet tall now.  It was quite an ordeal, getting him home and up the stairs to the apartment.  Even though the guard at the front desk knew her and weren’t supposed to be prejudiced, they did wrinkle their noses as the pair passed, eyeing Nash with dislike.  Yes, he smelled bad, but nothing a good shower wouldn’t fix, or a change of clothing.

His story had come out partly on the walk.  That first home after their shared one hadn’t lasted and he’d been bounced around from house to house.  He’d lost the Arawns’ contact information, which explained why they hadn’t heard from him, and he’d been kicked out of his last home like she had, at eighteen.  With nowhere to go and no one to house him for the remaining semester, he hadn’t finished high school.  Two years he had lived on the streets, using the guitar Trent had given him and taught him how to use to make some money.  Trent’s gift had saved his life. 

Dru tucked him in the shower, laying out some of her clothing, one of her men’s pairs of jeans and a sweatshirt two sizes too big for her that she’d gotten on sale.  When he was clean and dressed she had simple food out for him, a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk.  She played with the necklace he had given her those years ago, pouring him another bowl when he finished his first.

“Stay with me,” she said abruptly, and glared at him when he tried to speak.   “I already know you’re going to say you don’t take charity, but it’s not charity, you’re Nash and I’m Dru and we’re friends and I owe you this.  The couch should be big enough to take you, my bed is big enough for us to share.  Your job is going to be trying your hardest while Evie and I help you get your GED, and then we’ll set you up with getting into college.  I told you we had to get up and get out.  I did, I’m damn well making sure you do too.”

Nash said nothing, merely nodding, the shadows somewhat gone from his eyes.  Not completely, probably never completely, but at least they were lesser.

\--

Evie had immediately agreed with Dru’s idea, even if her mother had been more hesitant until the basics of the story had come out.  Then she was fine with it, which Dru was glad for – most of her “rent” was actually being paid by Mama Liz, so it was better that the woman liked the newest roommate.  With the too-smart-for-her-own-good Evie helping, it didn’t take long at all to get Nash up to speed with his GED.  With that his only focus, he was able to take the exam the middle of July and Dru turned her attention to starting his college applications with him, or at least hunting for grants for him.   She knew of a lot of them that he could apply to, because she hadn’t been able to apply for them, even if she was in the same, or nearly the same, prosperity bracket.  She was better off because _sensei_ had hired her on as his helper when she got her black belt, and now she was running her own classes, so she got the pay from that.

With some cajoling, the girls had managed to convince Nash to apply to the same college they were in, where he could get a music degree.  It was somewhat expensive, yes, but not as bad as Yale or anything like that.  They could help him with his courses too, if he went to the same school as them, and Evie could drive them all to campus.  It was a plan, and he started his applications with an eye to entering in the spring semester.  Everything was going fine, he’d gotten in and Dru had made him go for a walk so she could make dinner in his honor.  She was making his favorites from when they’d gone over the Arawns all the time after school, and they were coming to visit so that he could see them again.

Nash never came back from his walk.  They waited and waited, Dru put up posters and went searching for him, but September turned into November, and he couldn’t be found.  Then came December and some ball held in some Princess’ honor that somehow Evie got tickets to and persuaded Dru to go to.  That was when they saw him again.

It was Nash, but it wasn’t Nash.  Nash hadn’t been that big, that tall, and even at his most dejected, his most angry, his eyes had never been that cold.  The man, this Not-Nash, danced with her, called her beautiful, laughed at the jokes she made.  It wasn’t Nash, his laugh wasn’t hollow and cold sounding.  His laugh was quiet, gentle and warm.  She didn’t know what to do, since when she tried to see if she could get her Nash back, she got nothing.

That was bad.  It was even worse when suddenly he went and started attacking people.  She went to stop him and was surprised when he returned every punch with a block, sweeping her legs out from under her and pinning her down.  No, no, not Nash, never Nash, he would never do this, no, no, no.  At that moment she hadn’t thought it could get worse.  It did.

Her forehead burned. 

\--

 

 _New Haven, CT  
_ _2013_

The strum of guitar strings broke through her explanation to Eddie about how he had to turn his wrist with the block, to grab at the attacker and pull them off balance so he could cross-punch.  Annoyed, Dru looked at the doorway and saw _him_ slumped in the doorway.  Nash.  He was dead, but now he wasn’t, but he had – either way, he was in her doorway, his guitar strung across his front.

 _Dum-dum-dum-dum-dum, Dum-dum-dum, Dum-dum-de-da-dum, Dum-dum-dum!_ She took in a breath.   No, it couldn’t be, he couldn’t have… the notes continued in the strange tuning for an acoustic guitar.  Yes, he had.  He had learned the _Superman_ theme song.  He’d remembered.

How had he remembered?  All the time she had fought Nephrite, all the times they had traded blows, all the times he had nearly – nothing she said had gotten through to him.  Nothing had made him her Nash.  To save Sailor Moon she had hurt him.  To stop him from raping her she had killed him.  She had killed him.  She had killed him, held his body to her while lightning coursed through his veins, watched as at last, at last his eyes had appeared her Nash’s again, just long enough to show horror.  He knew, at the end, what Nephrite had tried to do.

It had nearly killed her, to know that his dying words had been to beg her forgiveness.  It would have killed her, if not for Evie, her loyal Mercury, for stubborn McKenna flambéing the monster that came up behind her, for determined Neha, using her chain to make sure Dru had some space for a moment in the middle of that battle, space to breathe.

It nearly killed her now to see him there.  How?  She had felt him die.  She had felt him die, and there was no way he should remember her favorite song, there was no way he should know her parents’ wedding song, there was no way he should be here right now, in the door to her _dojo_ , playing the song.

He was.  She gave up the pretense she made of teaching and just stared.  Her students fell silent, sitting without her even telling them to.   Nash walked up the aisle they left him, finishing the song as he sank to his knees in front of her, swinging his guitar around to his back.

“Drusilla.” Even when they were younger, he had never said her name with such reverence.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”   She stood stock still as he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his head in her stomach.  She remembered those arms around her, holding her as he tried to – but also after the other times, when it hadn’t been him, when he had fought for her, or would have.  How he had held her in the apartment during her nightmares.  She had felt like crystal the one night he had kissed her.

Memories swirled and stirred inside her, memories she had repressed, ones not her own, of other balls and other fights, when she had darker skin and different names and he had been a stranger from a strange land, accustomed to freedom while she had been tethered like a hawk to the jesses of the Moon Princess. It was all too much, too fast.  Looking down into ghost-green eyes, the fires banked for the moment, just the burning coals, she realized it.

The past didn’t matter.  It was all just the build up to the now.  She dropped down to her knees and hugged him, chin on his shoulder, whispering the one word that would set them both free.


End file.
